


Watching I Keep Waiting, Still Anticipating Love

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Established Relationship, Exploring, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Kissing, M/M, Morning After, Snuggling, Voyeurism, Watching Someone Sleep, hand holding, rhythm section
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24306109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: He wanted nothing more than to just sit and stare lovingly over the body, submerged in a deep sleep before him.
Relationships: John Taylor/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	Watching I Keep Waiting, Still Anticipating Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Berlin’s _Take My Breath Away, _arguably one of the most iconic ballads of the time. 🖤__

_Paris, April 1985_

_A View To A Kill Video shoot weekend_

Stirring, rolling over with a small groan, he knew immediately that he had hours left, hours of slumber he thought he was so desperate to catch; but found with a simple look to the body resting beside him that he would rather just sit still, braced up against the headboard and watch him peacefully.

Being careful not to make much noise, John scrambled onto all fours before pushing his lean body upwards. He kept wiggling his ass as he rearranged the pillows, now sat firmly before the headboard. With a swift flick of his wrist, he swept away the fallen auburn curl that dropped into his eyes, a small chuckle falling from his adorable overbite. 

Then, realising he had deprived himself of the sight of that beautiful body for too long, he set his sure eyes to land on his face, still serene and submerged in a deep sleep. Together they were painted in the low light as the early morning sun began to creep in through the blinds, casting them both in a low summer yellow glow. 

He really was beautiful, in the bright light to enhance his smile, half smushed into the duvet as the body continued to sleep with ease. John couldn’t help himself, he wanted nothing more than to reach out, to tousle those beautiful black locks that for once weren’t in perfect place; having been teased and gelled to create that flawless fifties look. John chuckled softly – he was no greaser – but was truly divine when wearing his fine leather.

John shook his head, he was much more stunning now, relaxed and open, gloriously nude with his glorious muscles on show. 

He didn’t want to awaken him, disrupt an undoubtedly delightful dream so John, struggling, kept his digits to himself. He let his rough hands come to rest on his stomach, having pulled the sheets up higher to frame them both.

John’s gaze fell back to the man sleeping soundly beside him. He watched with interest at the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was rhythmical, without skipping a beat to voice how are ease he was, how a tease they both were: lying together in this king sized bed; so far yet so close. John could feel that beat, he engulfed a breath and found that naturally, he too was breathing in time. As always, they were in time: right were they should be, on the beat, together.

John’s gaze was soft, fond, roaming as those eyes shifted slightly in their sockets. As those beautiful lips pursed and those cheekbones were highlighted, now lit with the summer sun that was pouring in through the window. There was less of a shadow and more of a spotlight, for John, beating down over the body and John found him to be glimmering, sparkling even brighter amongst the rumpled white sheet.

John dared to take another peak, finger tips creeping over to his left, heading straight for the tops of the sheet. Knowing that if he could uncover him slightly, begin to unravel that string, he would be privy to an even more beautiful sight. A strong stomach, powerful muscles and a delightful even tan that ran straight down those lean legs. John closed his eyes, with a sigh, having the perfect visual creep across the forefront of his wandering mind in a fond memory.

He longed for nothing more than to have that supportive frame before him, above him, cradling him, writing the melody together through tender touches of no longer shy lips. Through tender touches of no longer weary finger tips. He longed for the feel, being driven crazy on the highs of the sensation of Roger. All of Roger.

“… long you been watchin’ me?”

Roger whom, John hadn’t realised, had began to thaw under his very hand.

John’s gaze shot back open, slightly alarmed and mad at himself. He really hadn’t wanted to have awoken Roger from his precious dream state, however his fingers were thinking for themselves and must have crept a little lower on the drummer’s body before the bassist’s brain could catch up.

“Johnny?” It was muffled slightly.

There was a quick ruffle, Roger was now resting his sleepy face on one hand. John’s eyes caught his, blinking rapidly and trying to adjust to the light. With a small giggle, a single finger swept itself under Roger’s chin and John guided his gaze to meet his own. John crept down, catching his soft lips in a kiss full of love and adoration. Full of John’s eagerness, happiness at having his beloved finally grace him with his beautiful big brown eyes and heavenly lips.

Pulling away, John pressed their foreheads together. His eyes had fallen closed again, long lashes fanning, already beginning to feel the warmth within him and the stir of Roger so close to him, so perfectly close.

It took John a moment to register where that hand had gone, Roger was tugging John back down to meet him. John shuffled down the bed, a little red in the face, so he and Roger were lying side to side again; both resting their cheeks in open palms. 

“You didn’t answer, Johnny,” Roger began, voice soft and slightly teasing. “How long were you _watching_ me?”

“I don’t know.” John answered, growing shy. “I couldn’t, you know, sleep.”

John felt himself flush darker as a pair of brows were hastily raised and a disbelieving smirk painted Roger’s handsome face.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No, no I couldn’t. I just, you know,” John broke off smiling over why he couldn’t just get his words out. 

“You wanted to watch me, instead.” Roger answered for him. “Cheeky sod.”

John nodded, giggling, having been caught in those particularly gorgeous headlights.

He snuggled in, impossibly closer as Roger dropped his hand and John crawled up to meet him. He let his head rest atop of the drummer’s strong chest, John’s curls painting his olive skin. His fingertips splayed themselves out, right across Roger’s beating heart, massaging his pec lightly. John chuckled softly, as a naughty little feeling crept upon him. He snuck a tender hand down Roger’s side, brushing his ribs and the grooves of his stomach.

He giggled as he felt Roger shift beneath him, arching slightly into his touch with a small moan. Without warning, John’s fingers crept lower and lower; resting soundly on Roger’s thigh. Their legs brushed as John let his lanky limb trap him there, turning his head so they were now face to face. John shifted again, so his chin was resting in the groove between Roger’s pecs; he giggled at the familiar light dusting of hair as it brushed his chin.

“And now I’m awake, what do _you_ want from _me_?” Roger’s voice had dropped, John’s gaze widened naughtily. 

Another swift movement and John’s teasing hands grasped hold of his prize.

“Oh, _I_ see.” Roger half moaned, before biting his lip.

John began to stroke him lightly, with a newfound sense of control and finesse; as he felt himself begin to stir in response.

“Kiss me, Johnny.”

Instead, John splayed himself out in full, crawling atop of Roger to cover him. Now above him, John leant down to catch those luscious lips in his own, kissing long and deep; before his tongue began to inch forward, catching Roger in the ever growing wild embrace.

John pulled back with a groan, knowing that in this position he could feel everything. He could sense Roger, could revel in the pulsing of him brush up against John abdomen; in anything but just a teasing manner. Knowing that John himself was quickly growing impatient, in sheer need, John began to move. His hips rocked rhythmically, no longer so shy, brushing up against Roger’s member. John sighed triumphantly, as Roger met his beat, he ground his hips upwards, to meet John’s own.

“What do you want, John?” John shivered bodily as Roger’s hot breath tickled his ear.

Moaning, skin flushing pink, hips snapping with little control; John replied, “you, _now_.”

Lips pursing, “do you think we have time?” 

With a whine, sensing where the game was heading, John groaned, “yes, yes we do!”

As always, Taylor telepathy, Roger had read his mind. John watched him, how Roger didn’t take his heated gaze off of John as he felt about the bedside table; he didn’t even fumble opening it and slipping a hand inside.

John hissed, eyes falling shut in pure anticipation as he heard the lid twist off. The rustle of the foil. 

He was still rocking lightly atop of Roger, keeping that fire alight as the drummer’s skilled fingers began to creep down John’s heated flesh. Drawing whines and moans, John immediately surrendered; becoming putty in Roger’s hands. Roger opened him up, relaxed and prepared him; swirling his digits inside of John as John’s stomach twisted and flipped; as he pointlessly bit into his bottom lip - barely able to stifle another groan.

Shifting atop of him, John backed himself hungrily onto Roger’s fingers. His bottom lip was trembling, skin coated in a fine sheen of sweat that he was glistening; wanting to impale himself onto the drummer and be driven further from reason; moaning wild and rutting against him with force.

  
“Please, please Rog I cant,” John stammered out. “I need _you_ , right now.”

In one swift move, Roger removed his fingers and John cried out. He felt so empty, so alone, quivering with lust as he waited. His hips snapped forward on reflex, pulsing member brushing his own stomach. John groaned low, the sound taught in the back of his throat, as his juices began to flow. He heard the rip of the wrapper, mouth watering, as he raised himself up and let himself settle back down. Roger took his time, supportive hands cradling John’s hips as the bassist whimpered; shimmying to adjust to his impressive size.

  
Sinking down, choking off a groan, John let Roger in all the way. He threw his head back, snapping his eyes shut, staying perfectly still. His breaths had quickened, his fingers were clawing at Roger’s thighs and yet, John couldn’t move. He didn’t want too. He wanted to sit right there, drive himself mad on the feeling of being so full, stretched and full; knowing that he was about to be broken down and loved, by the man he loved so. To be guided home, soaring on having Roger so close to him: right where John needed him.

“Ready?”

In a short breath, “ _please_.” 

John sighed happily as he heard a pleased little chuckle from before him. He momentarily flung his gaze open, eyes falling to the two strong hands that cupped his tiny butt and helped to raise him slightly. John took the hint, leaning forward to rest his palms on Roger’s thighs; kneading them. Together they raised John up as he began to ride him slowly, little moans escaping the bassist’s mouth with each thrust.

Roger was slow, controlled, each roll of hips exuded a power that had John dizzy, coming undone on top of him, sanity tearing itself from his seams. He was bucking back onto Roger’s length now, being driven into madness by the vibrant pulse of the drummer within him. John was whining, biting his bottom lip and whining louder: drawing blood as his nails began to rake in wild patterns, as Roger clutched him tighter and John felt himself begin to swell. 

He was riding Roger helplessly now, throwing his head back in elation as he could feel himself tighten and his stomach was in knots. Hot fluids trailed down his member, pooling on Roger’s abdomen below. Then, as if on reflex, Roger flipped them. John was taken on a roll, giggling, slipping from Roger momentarily before he hoisted his legs back up around the drummer’s back and they joined themselves back together with a groan.

John cried out, being pounded into now without a single restraint. He was on the verge of tears, a rough hand fumbling with his own leaking erection that pulsed violently in his needy grip. Roger was kissing him, nipping at his cheeks and jaw and all John could do was draw himself in closer, lose himself in Roger’s lustful heat; dangerously close to his peak, teetering on the edge of his blissful oblivion.

Roger was thrusting with full force now. Their syncopated pants and breaths had grown wild grunts long ago, low moans and cries were dropped hastily: voicing to John the pleasure that he was giving him, and showing Roger with all his heart just how much he needed him. His support, his touch, his love, Roger’s everything.

John’s body convulsed, he was surely screaming but not a single sound dropped from his bloodstained lips. He clutched helplessly to Roger above him, forcing him in closer, hips contracting all around Roger as John milked him from within. His inner walls were in a frenzy, head in overdrive; as John’s pearly load painted his pasty skin. A couple more thrusts and John kept Roger close to him nice and tight, feeling his rhythm surge and concert reach crescendo: Roger was groaning harshly, hips stuttering as John took his breath away.

John grunted as Roger collapsed atop of him, immediately kissing him as though he was sorry to have momentarily crushed him. John felt elated, satisfied and thankful as Roger didn’t pull himself away; didn’t dare to separate them so soon. 

“I love you _so_ much, Rog,” John uttered, still fighting for breath. “I do.”

He squirmed, feeling Roger’s hand cup his jaw to angle it up higher; to meet his quivering lips again with John’s own. 

“I know you do. I love you too; Johnny,” Roger kissed it into his temple and John groaned beneath him.

They stayed perfectly still, letting John’s heart beat itself back to a pulse he could handle. Without word John was kissing him over and over, cuddling him and Roger blanketed him with his strong core. John didn’t want him to leave, already feeling another stir from deep within his stomach.

With a soft smile, a naughty crook of his finger; John beckoned Roger back down to his aching lips, in dire need of him. His drug, his _Roger_.

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired by John’s livestream with Mark Ronson last night. That awkward moment of Roger love towards the end, how John has never and will never get sick of staring at Roger’s pretty face...


End file.
